Mr Black's Fuzzy Pink Plot Bunny Slippers
by Steve2
Summary: What would you say if you could travel to any reality at any time, but to do so had to wear Fuzzy Pink Slippers? Criminals and Death Eaters beware the squeak, squeak of Mr. Black's slippers.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, drat the luck. I'm just mucking around with it. No harm intended.

The character of Mr. Black (Harry Potter's "alter-ego") was created by Rorschach's Blot in his **Make a Wish** story. If you have not read it, then you should as it is well worth the time. One way to see if it is worth your time is by the number of reviews a story contains. Any story that hits over a thousand reviews has got to be good. This story has over 6500 reviews and it, along with the sequel, is complete. You can always check my favorites for a link to the story. Rorschach's has allowed me to use his Mr. Black character.

Rating: T-ish. At least that's what I'm shooting for.

Prologue – from: The Hunt for Harry Potter, Chapter 3 Omake 

"Harry?"

Harry's eyes began to focus, but it was hard as they did not want to cooperate. As is, the last thing he wanted was to come back to the waking world.

"Harry? You all right there?" Henchgirl asked again, pouring herself some coffee. Black, naturally.

"Grumpflztsh," Harry muttered, pointing to the cup.

Henchgirl quickly got the gist of what he wanted and gave him the cup, pouring more in another mug for herself.

"Morning, sleepyhead. Rough night?" she asked in a chipper voice. Then added with a slight sarcastic overtone, "'Course not so sure it can be rough since we don't have any veela on board." An old issue of the Quibbler was open on the table.

"Huh? Veela? There's veela here? If they ask for me, I'm not here! I am not going to play any more of their marathon games again!"

"Harry, calm down. I'm just kidding. You have bad dreams again?" Henchgirl asked concerned.

Harry took another swallow of hot, blistering hot, hot coffee, coughed a few times, wiped away the tears of pain in his eyes for drinking something that hot so quickly and said, "Nah. Not bad dreams. Good dreams. Or at least one good dream. I didn't want to wake up this morning."

"Oh? Good dreams you say? Care to share with the rest of the class?" Henchgirl asked with a grin.

"Well, I'm not sure you'd appreciate the humour in it…" Harry began to hedge.

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that," Henchgirl suggested, motioning him to sit at the table and spill.

Harry sat and got settled. After a minute or so of thinking, he started, "It's the same dream I've had each night for the past week. I'm in Diagon Alley. Not too many people around. It's nearing closing time, the sun's just about to set. I'm not sure what I'm doing there…

IIIIIIIIII

Harry looked around Diagon Alley. The shops had just started to wheel in their awnings and pull in anything that wasn't nailed down. Magically or otherwise. How the hell had he gotten here? he asked himself. Seeing a very familiar travel shop, he knew it was time to get answers.

He started off towards the shop and quickly fell over. Looking down… er… sideways now that he was on the ground, he saw a cute little bunny. Strange, it didn't run off from him. It simply munched away on a discarded apple. The rabbit was a little bit bigger than his hand but didn't weigh all that much when Harry picked it up. He stroked its coat a few times and then carried it to the shop. Maybe he'd get around to beating the shopkeeper – after he got some bunny food.

"Ah, Mr. Black. So very good to see you again," the aged shopkeeper smiled at his arrival.

"Okay, what's the deal this time?" Harry demanded, still stroking the adorable brown and white bunny.

"Huh? Wuzzat?" the shopkeeper answered in his best true innocent voice.

"Why'd you bring me back here? Who else do I have to kill to get you out of my life?"

"Mr. Black, I didn't bring you here at all."

"Then why am I back in your store?" Harry really, really wanted to slap this guy.

IIIIIIIIII

"I thought you said this was a good dream?" Henchgirl asked.

"It is," Harry agreed. "Just you wait until I get to the good part."

IIIIIIIIII

The shopkeeper must have sensed his imminent beating and quite carefully said, "If I had to hazard a guess as to why you here, I'd have to say it was due to that Plot Bunny you have in your hands."

"What?" That threw the beating of the shopkeeper off. Harry looked down at the innocent, cute bunny in his hands.

"Plot Bunny. You do know what they are, don't you? No? They're fairly common. Most wizards don't even know of them because they do not affect them at all. Basically, these are bunnies that facilitate a person's life."

"Huh? Wuzzat?" Harry tried to come to grasp with the cute widdle bunny in his hands. That or to try and keep it from peeing on him.

"Think of it this way: have you ever felt like your purpose was over? Or that there was something you needed to do, that you wanted to do but knew that it had to wait until a later date? A Plot Bunny can help facilitate turning that sense of purposelessness into having a purpose."

"How?" Harry was actually intrigued.

"Sometimes they speed up time for the individual, or move you through time and space altogether. In most cases they move you to where you need to be. It's really up to the wizard's power. And before you ask, no, most wizards do not use them as they are not powerful enough to affect a Plot Bunny at all. It takes a lot of power to energize a Plot Bunny.

"So tell me, Mr. Black, are you feeling a little… purposeless these days?"

"Well… yes. I guess so."

"Is there something you feel you need to do?"

"Well… I'm glad that old Voldemort is gone, but sometimes I feel like he got off too easy, you know? Like if I had my way that wanker would pay more for what he's done…"

And with that Harry disappeared from reality…

…only to reappear in front of a familiar looking shopkeeper. "Good to meet you, Mr. Black," he said. "I take it your travels have gone well?"

"What just happened?" Harry immediately went on guard. Something was off.

"I am guessing you have traveled to your intended purpose. Don't you feel something familiar?" At Harry's blank look, the shopkeeper pointed to his forehead.

His scar! He could feel Voldemort again. The cretin was alive! Harry looked at the shopkeeper who was readying a portkey. "How…" he started.

"You traveled to an alternate reality if I had to guess. Fortunately there was an available Plot Bunny to help out. I take it you want to right some things?"

With a feral grin in place, Mr. Black took the portkey and said, "See you soon. Activate."

Harry vanished from the shop only to reappear in a throne room with a lot of still-living death munchers groveling at the feet of a right arse.

"Wormtail? I thought my 6:30 appointment was to meet some new recruits and lynch a muggle family. Did you inform me wrong?" old lizard-breath eyed his minion evilly.

"…n… no, master. This must be an intruder. Do you wish me to dispatch him?"

Voldemort looked at the newcomer. "Perhaps. Tell me, stranger, why have you come into my most holy sanctorum?"

Harry looked around, ignoring his mortal enemy. He saw something that lifted his spirits. Today was a GOOD day after all. "Hey, is that Bellatrix and the LeStrange brothers over there? Hi guys! Acme! Acme, acme!"

Bellatrix looked at the strange man curiously. "Do you want me to torture him into insanity, my lord?" she asked, tapping her wand into the palm of her left hand.

"No. He appears to be there already. Tell me your name, stranger, before we begin our games with you."

"They call me…" Harry started but stopped as a monstrous anvil landed on Bellatrix's head, causing it and the rest of her shoulders, heck – the entire chest cavity for that matter – to suddenly go south for the foreseeable future (so to speak). In other words – she got schmushed real good.

"Wha…?" Voldemort started only to have both LeStrange brothers copy the fate of Bellatrix.

"…Mr. Black," Harry finished, smiling as he took out his camera and snapped an Instant picture of the grisly scene. The camera floated for a moment and then vanished only to reappear again a second later. The picture shunted out of the feeder which would take a few minutes to automatically magically develop. Later Harry would see the entire anvil scene on the three LeStranges play over and over. He really had to hand it to the Professor for creating this latest invention. Neville was going to enjoy his next birthday present. He might even frame it and put it on a wall somewhere. Ah, good times.

"So you have come to join me?" Voldemort asked hopefully while sliding his wand out and getting ready to do battle.

"Nope. Sorry. Just came by to say 'Explosivo Castrado!'"

Wand out, Voldemort tried to block the spell but was a tad too slow. As such, his nether regions kind of… exploded… and not in a good way.

Harry was a bit bummed at not being able to see the thrashing, moaning, and groaning that Tommy-boy was engaged in as he had to take care of a few dozen death eaters, which as his good luck had it, did hear his name and quickly dropped their wands and surrendered. But it was always a good idea to incarcerate them before they found their mob mentality again and tried to stab him in the back.

Shortly, the two dozen now stupefied death munchers were taken care of and Harry focused his attention on the primary reason he was there. "How's it hangin', Tom? Oops, sorry. That was kind of crass of me, wasn't it?"

"…argh… I can't believe you did this. You bastard! What did I ever do to you?" Voldemort grimaced as he tried to cauterize the wound himself only to miss and scorch a knee.

Harry then spent another ten minutes finding inventive ways to torment Voldemort (mostly by calling him Tom since that bothered him so much – what a cry baby). He then killed him like before and even though Wormtail had fled (again), he knew it was only a matter of time before he collected that particular rat. And he wanted to enjoy the hunt.

"Return," Harry commanded and he was again in the Travel shop.

"Welcome back, Mr. Black. How do you feel now?"

"Better. That was fun. I'll have to do it again sometime. Well, I guess I'd better get back to my original reality. Where did that rabbit get to?"

Harry looked around the shop for a few minutes before finding the bunny near the children's section of shop where international gags were sold. Chuckling, Harry picked up the bunny and said, "Silly rabbit. Tricks are for kids."

IIIIIIIIII

"…and then I started to wake up," Harry concluded.

Henchgirl was grinning and chuckling at the image of anvils falling on death eater heads.

Harry heard a noise from the doorway and looked over his shoulder to see the Professor standing there, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Plot Bunny you say. And you've had this dream multiple times. Yes, I think it could work…" he muttered, before leaving.

Henchgirl's expression turned thoughtful as well. She looked at Harry with a calculating gaze.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Harry," Henchgirl started, "you do know that Plot Bunnies exist, right?


	2. Fuzzy Pink Plot Bunny Slippers

Chapter 1 – Fuzzy Pink Plot Bunny Slippers 

**Time: following the end of The Hunt for Harry Potter**

Harry and Henchgirl walked towards the Professor's lab. "The Professor wanted me to have you come to his lab as soon as possible. He says he's created a breakthrough with transportation that will enable you to go farther and faster than ever before."

"Really? Faster than a portkey? Those are pretty fast."

"Couldn't tell you. You know how the professor is."

"Well it still sounds great," Harry agreed as they entered the lab.

In front of them was the Professor, his back to the door in an effort to block from view whatever he was working on. Harry was about to ask the diminutive Professor what was new when the man quickly reached over, grabbed an 18mm wrench and brought it down on whatever was on the bench. Several times.

"Stay still, darn it! Get back here, you…" he muttered the rest but Harry was sure some choice adjectives were in there.

"Professor?" H said. "Is this a bad time?"

The Professor looked around and saw his assistant and Harry. His expression lighted up and he smiled. Soon, glory would be his. All his. Bwah-hah-hah-hah. _Hmmm, note to self: work on evil laughter so it can be heard and not just in my head._ "No. This is a great time. I have just finished my latest invention! Made just for you, Harry." He indicated a relatively small area covered with a green and brown drop cloth. Harry could see something under the cloth was moving.

_Now what_? Harry wondered. Was he worried? This was the Professor after all. Hell yes, he was worried.

"Ready? This is not the time for frivolous speeches…" the Professor began.

"Forgot to write up a new one, eh?" Henchgirl smirked.

"Quiet you. As I was saying… here it is!" The Professor then went to unveil his latest invention. One that would surely be looked on in envy by many other inventors, he was sure. The tension in the room was palpable. At least it was to Harry since he was the one who was tense. This was the Professor after all. Who knew what horrific invention he'd come up with?

Fwoomp came the sound of a drop cloth being pulled off of… something.

Under the cover were two fuzzy pink bunny slippers. Sized to match Harry's feet even. They had little black eyes and every now and then their noses twitched and an ear bobbed.

It was worse than Harry thought.

"Okay, Professor, I'll bite. What are these?"

"These? They are only the greatest invention I have ever come up with. Even Henchgirl can't top this. Nyahh."

"Nyahh, nyahh to you too, buster," Henchgirl replied, sticking her tongue out at the man.

"Professor?" Harry indicated the slippers again.

"Oh, right. These, Harry, are Fuzzy Pink Plot Bunny Slippers that Squeak. Remember your dream a couple months ago? Well, these are based off of a Plot Bunny's ability to take someone where they need to go. I tell you, I stone!"

"You mean you rock?" Harry clarified.

The excited Professor stated, "That too! Henchgirl! Pat me on the back."

Henchgirl got up and slipped her arm around his shoulders to his back. "There, there, it's all right. You'll be okay. Let it all out. There's a good little boy. Come on, burp it up."

"Braaaack. Thank you, Henchgirl. My moment got me too excited and I swallowed my gum."

"So these slippers will take me to where I need to go?" Harry further clarified if only to get the full implications down as to what the Professor just created.

"Yes. Down the hall, down the street, down the city, down the next alternate reality. You name it, they move you. I'm the bestest!"

"Bestest?" Harry queried Henchgirl.

She shrugged her shoulders. "Best wasn't ever good enough for him. He always wanted more est in best."

"Okay. Alternate realities. Time travel. Got it. But why pink?"

The Professor stopped his victory dance to look at his employer. "Why because it was the only color that would work," he stated simply as if it explained everything. And to him, it did.

"And the squeaking?"

"What better way to inflict terror on the wicked? Once they start to hear the ominous squeak, squeak of your approaching slippers, they will be falling to get out of your way."

"Bought them at discount, right? They came with a squeak, did they?" Henchgirl said looking at her Professor, hands on her hips.

He stopped his jubilant dance and stared at the floor, his hands going to his coat pockets. "Yes."

Intrigued by the idea of the slippers, Harry took her boots off, and while holding them in one hand, deftly put the slippers on. "So how do they work?"

The Professor perked up again. It was hard to keep a man of that insanity... er... genius down. "Concentration is the key. Think of a destination, or an idea, or an emotion and they do all the work. Well, they use your magic to do all the work, but you get the idea."

"Really?" Harry vanished.

"They do work," Henchgirl said in awe.

"You doubted me? For shame!"

"You didn't know they were going to work either. I read your notes the other day."

"Curse you and your cleaning ways, woman!"

"So how long do you think he'll be gone?"

"No idea. Did you see which way my gum came flying out?"

"No. I'll be in my lab. Let me know when Harry gets back."

-o0o-

Henchgirl poured herself a cup of coffee when she heard an ominous sound behind her.

Squeak, squeak!

Turning quickly she saw a very haggard and nervous Harry looking at her.

"Henchgirl! I need your help!"

"Harry, what's wrong?"

"I think I've seriously screwed up my counterpart's potion and I need you to come back with me to that reality to fix it before it hurts him when it explodes," Harry said succinctly.

"Wow. That didn't take you long to do," Henchgirl said impressed.

"What do you mean it didn't take me long to do. I've been gone for three weeks. This is the eleventh alternate reality I've been to."

"Really? Because from my perspective you've only been gone for 30-minutes. Why don't you tell me how this came about."

"Well, I hit this reality and did a little reconnaissance. Turns out my counterpart is in his fifth year and has to go up against Voldemort and yadda, yadda, yadda. You know the drill. Anyway, I thought it would be kind of funny to knock Snape out for a bit and take his place teaching the class. That way I'd be able to teach "myself" so to speak something. Mr. Black met Snape in his classroom and knocked him out, then I glamoured myself to look like the greasy git.

"As I'm getting ready to write the lesson, the class comes in. I write it down quickly on the black board for everyone to see. The bell rings and I immediately tell everyone the potion is on the board and to feel free to ask me if they have any questions. Then I docked some points off Goyle for the heck of it. It seemed like the right thing to do.

"So I'm watching this younger version of myself preparing and putting in ingredients.

"Then I notice that the ingredients were wrong so I took it upon myself to surreptitiously add the right ones while his counterpart's attention was otherwise distracted. I had a pretty good idea of what I was doing with the dozen or so things I'd put in the cauldron until I noticed a couple of off ingredients on this other Harry's desk. These same ingredients were on other people's desks as well.

"So I look up at the black board and notice… heh, you're going to laugh… how bad my handwriting actually is. I thought I'd assigned a burn salve potion that any 5th year could make. But everyone was brewing a boppo-silius potion. Whoops. And to make matters worse, I'm pretty sure I've set my counterpart's potion to explode now. So I really need your help to make sure my alternate self isn't harmed.

"So will you help me?"

"Of course, Harry. I'd do it for the challenge if nothing else. Besides, what are friends for? Let me get some supplies. I'll need this… and… oh, yes, I'll definitely need that. This looks good too. So tell me, Harry, what have you been doing with yourself all this time?"

"Remember that dream of mine I told you about?"

"Of course," she said still sticking potion ingredients in her bag.

"Well, here are some pictures of it actually happening," he showed her some instant pictures of grisly deaths to bad people.

"Cool!"

-o0o-

In the hallway to the potions room, Harry looked at a nearby clock. "Good. I've only been gone a few minutes."

"What excuse did you give for leaving the classroom unattended with all these hooligans inside?"

"Call of nature."

"They believed that?"

Harry grinned at her as he put his glamour back in place. "Broke wind to emphasize my point."

"That… that would certainly do it. So how do you want me to do this?"

"I go in, get the students to come up to the front of the class. You disillusion yourself and come in after me only to move to the rear of the class where this Harry's potion is."

"I'll need to drop the illusion to concentrate on working on the potion."

"Right. I'll keep them all up there for as long as you need. Just give me a signal you're done and ready to let them continue."

Harry watched as Henchgirl invisibled herself and then went back to class.

"Class! Stop what you are doing now and come on up here. Some finer points of this potion need to be discussed in excruciating detail."

The students all cloistered around his desk; their potions still simmering over open flames back at their desks. Harry saw Henchgirl become visible and start working on Harry's potion. She sniffed it first and then got to work adding even more ingredients.

Harry had Dean Thomas repeat all the ingredients needed for the potion. Then "Snape" gave him some points for it. He had Crabbe do the same and deducted points when jelly beans, chocolate frogs, and mince pie were on the list.

Harry then began to berate a couple students for sloppy cauldron handling, most notable was Draco Malfoy. Slytherin lost points for that. After ten minutes of this constant talking, Harry was starting to wind down. He'd actually completed his repertoire of everything Snape had said over the years to him. He glanced to Henchgirl. She was strapping a small timer on the cauldron. She motioned for him to keep going.

Think, Harry, think! Uh… "Potter! Do you know what the difference between flormwood and woodflorm are?"

"Isn't that a NEWT question, sir?" the alternate Harry ground out, certain he was going to lose points.

"Oh, right, quite right you are. Take five points for Gryffindor for alerting me to this oversight. So, uh…" Henchgirl motioned for him to continue again. "…uh… what sign are you?"

"Excuse me, sir," Harry replied in shock.

"Your sign, Potter. What sign were you born under?"

"How does that relate to potions, sir?"

"Who said it had to, Potter."

"Ron, guess you were right. I owe you a galleon. Professor Snape is a perv."

"Professor Snape," Hermione began, "it's against the law to hit on your students. You do know that don't you?"

"Oh, right, quite right, Miss Granger. Take ten points for reminding me of that." Henchgirl gave a sign that she was done and disillusioned herself.

"Okay, enough chit-chat, students. Time to get back to your potions. Quickly now. We don't have all day. Mr. Thomas, you don't have to walk that way. I'm not, ah, interested in you that way."

"Why not? I'm not pretty enough for you? Bastard."

"Class, be on your best behavior and I'll be back in a few minutes. Should anything arise, ask Miss Granger for assistance. You're in charge, Miss Granger."

Harry slipped out the door, keeping it open long enough to feel Henchgirl come out. He closed the door and they walked down the hall.

Harry was grinning from ear to ear. "That went well I think. Harry's potion won't explode and I got to ruin some of Snape's credibility by making him look like a pervert. Score!"

"Uh, you didn't want Harry's potion to explode?" Henchgirl asked in confusion.

"Yeeeeesssss," Harry said slowly. "That's the whole reason we're here. To keep him from getting harmed."

"Oh. Then we might want to get that potion before the timer goes off."

"You set it to explode?"

"Well, yes. You'd mucked that potion up pretty bad. If you didn't want it to explode you should have said so. As is, it won't hurt him. See, I was paying attention at that part."

"So if it's going to explode, but not hurt him, then what does it do? Just some smoke?"

"No, second hand smoke hurts. The explosion will simply move him through time."

"Uh… how far in time? A few minutes? Hours? Days?"

"I'm pretty certain it'll take him to about six…" she started.

"Six tonight isn't bad. Guess it could have been worse."

"No. To when he was six years old."

BOOM!

Harry and Henchgirl heard an explosion from the Potions Lab.

"Six years old? Really? For how long?"

"No telling. He'll probably just wake up in the body of his younger self."

"Wake up… you mean he'll have all his memories intact?"

"Don't see why not. What's the worst that can happen?"

"You mean existing as a six year old kid with full knowledge of the wizarding world, his role in it, and the ability to do magic? Plus having all the knowledge of the pranks that the Weasley twins pulled? Against Uncle Vernon Aunt Petunia? They don't stand a chance. He's going to want revenge, you wait and see."

"Well since it's going to take him a few years to get here, how about taking me back to my lab?"

Harry stopped and thought about what could possibly happen with a 15-year old Harry Potter in a 6-year old body against his aunt and uncle. A smile creased his face. "Sure. Let's head back. Oh, and Henchgirl?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks. Good thinking. I may have to check on this Harry in years to come. Or years past. Whatever. Let's head home."

-o0o-

TO READ WHAT HAPPENED TO THIS ALTERNATE HARRY, AND WHAT HE HAD IN MIND FOR PUNISHING VERNON, ALONG WITH MANY OTHER PEOPLE ON HIS "LIST", YOU CAN READ THE ENTIRE STORY (YES, IT'S COMPLETE) ON RORSCHACH'S BLOT STORY LISTINGS. IT IS CALLED: **Lets do the Time Warp Again** and can be found at: http: slash slash www . fanfiction . net slash s slash 2784785 slash 1

http// / s / 2784785 / 1


	3. Remembering Me?

Sorry this took so long to post but server problems kept me from getting it up last week. Many thanks to the the reviewers. Here's hoping more come in with this chapter. More reviews mean more chapters. Easy math. Kind of like 1 plus 1 equals three. Wha...?

Chapter 2: Remembering Me? 

Pop.

In a dimensional instant, Henchgirl and Harry were back in her lab at Black HQ. Immediately they noticed the diminutive Professor. He was pacing around the lab as if looking for something. Finally, after searching under several tables and mumbling things that Harry was certain they were swear words that nuns would use, he pulled out a knapsack.

Harry immediately noticed the name stitched onto the flap: Professor Fergus Farnsworth. It was old, dusty, and Harry wasn't sure why it was in Henchgirl's lab of all places.

"Hiya, Professor, we're back," Harry waved as Henchgirl put her own knapsack of potion ingredients on the table.

"You were gone?" he inquired of his hench. She shrugged and pointed to Harry.

"I needed her help on an assignment to get my counterpart out of a jam," Harry volunteered as the Professor immediately started searching through the sack until he found a piece of paper. It was yellow with age.

He immediately paled as he read something on it.

Harry could tell the man was extremely agitated as he started to pace the room again, his hands behind his back as he clearly started to concentrate... on something.

"You see I'd accidentally sabotaged my own potion and Henchgirl's expertise remedied the situation by sending my counterpart back to when he was six and..."

The Professor interrupted him with a slightly hysterical tint to his voice. "Yes, yes, that's all very well to help those underprivileged kids and all, but I need some help."

"What's wrong?" Henchgirl said all the while putting her potion supplies away.

The Professor walked from one end of the room to the other in a panic. "Something bad. Something really, really bad."

"The kind of bad that implodes the universe?" Harry said. He was used to the Professor after all.

"Or the kind of bad that pertains to old food in the refrigerator?" Henchgirl supplied. She'd worked long with the Professor as well.

He stopped pacing and looked at them, worry lines prominent on his face. "Worse. My life…" (he performed a dramatic pause that had the back of his hand go over his forehead) "…is over."

Harry hadn't seen the hand gesture before. At least done by him. Parvati did it all the time now that he recalled. "Did one of your experiments get away from you again? If so, point me towards it and I'll kill it." Harry had found that most things got resolved with a little bit of killing. Unless you were an evil dark lord heavily immersed into immortality – in which case you needed extra doses of killing to make sure you weren't coming back.

"Worse," the Professor supplied, slumping down in a chair.

"Did Bubba the Nundu get loose from the Doctor and destroy your lab?" Henchgirl wondered.

"After what he did the last time I've properly warded that lab now, thank you. Besides, I don't know how that catnip got in there anyway. No, this is worse than that."

Harry and Henchgirl looked at one another. This was new territory. Could the Professor's life really be over?

"Well, then," Harry started, "why don't you tell us what's going on and we'll see if we can't help you."

The Professor looked so broken down, so disheveled; it was hard to imagine anything really getting him down.

"It's… no, this is my problem. I'll face it like a man…"

"Since when?" Henchgirl replied instinctively.

"Since now, you! I'll face my doom with my head held high. It was an honor knowing both of you. Henchgirl, you will elevate to the vaulted potion of Professor after I'm gone. You'll need a new hench. I've taken the liberty of putting an ad in the newspapers. I'm sure you'll be receiving an owl from someone. Goodbye, my friends." The Professor's head held high, he started walking out the door of Henchgirl's potion laboratory.

"Professor, wait," Harry called after him. "Please, tell us what's wrong. Perhaps we can help. Really."

He allowed himself to be led back into the lab. "I… I… I did something years ago. And it's come back to haunt me after all this time."

"What?" Henchgirl asked. This was new even for her.

"I… forgot to return a book I'd checked out of the Hogwarts Library Restricted Section. I was cleaning out one of my old mail order storage lockers in Bristol while you were gone and found it there. I just found the note in my old knapsack I'd left myself to return it."

"You mean... you're this worked up because of an overdue library book?" Harry said, suppressing some rage. The same kind of rage that he used with the Acme spell on the LeStranges. Several times one might add.

"Ah, I can see you scoff at my predicament, Mr. Black," the Professor said, reverting back to formal relationships. "But let me tell you something, defeating a dark lord is nothing compared to the wrath of a librarian getting a book back that is late. Or in my case: _very_ late. The late fees are going to be a doozy as is.

"But what's worse is what Madame Pince will do with me once she gets her nails into my hide. Well, it's been nice knowing you, but I can't let this book remain out of the hands of a proper library any longer. There's no telling how many youngsters have missed out reading this volume."

Harry noticed he was holding a book entitled, Randall Quigg's Rough Roddy Action Metallurgical Spell Reinforcement Made E-Z: Everything You Wanted To Know About Creating Railroad Tracks for Model Magical Trains! And Then Some! The first thing Harry thought was: man, that was a long title. What's with wizards and their penchants for long titles? Then, he thought/said:

"Model trains? You have a book on building railroad tracks for model trains?" Whoops. He'd meant to say that in his head, not have it come out like that.

"Well, yes," the Professor said as if it was the most logical thing in the world.

"And it was in the restricted section at Hogwarts?"

"Yes," the Professor said slowly, not wanting to disturb the thought process that his employer was going through. The breakthrough when he put all the pieces together and realized what he, the Professor, needed it for should be coming… right about… now.

"I… no, don't tell me. I don't want to know."

Ah. Good man. He's keeping that knowledge under wraps. He's a smart one, that Mr. Black. Harry has learned much.

"You," Henchgirl started, staring at the Professor.

"Yes…"

"Have a book."

"Yes…"

"That is from Hogwarts Restricted Section."

"Yes…"

"And it's **LATE**?!"

"Yes," the Professor's shoulders drooped yet again as he concluded that Henchgirl just realized his fate.

"It's only a late book," Harry tried.

"Harry, you don't understand," Henchgirl started. "I read an article in Potions Quarterly a couple years back about the strictest librarians of all time. First and foremost was the head librarian, Barb, at the great library of Alexandria. Something about her using a bullwhip when a book was late – we're not sure if that is a fact or conjecture. Second was Miriam, the head librarian of Camelot. She used rope to make examples of those who returned a book late. A close third is Madame Pince, head librarian of current day Hogwarts."

Harry gulped. "What does she use then? A branding iron?"

"Absolutely not," the Professor said. "She makes people do lines."

Harry had that same headache start that he always got when talking with the Professor about… well, literally, anything. "What? The teachers make students do lines in detention. It's no big deal."

"The kind of lines that you need a straight edge for? The kind of lines that you end up sweating over for days and days until they are perfectly lined up and symmetrical with warding and train track building? Or if you're not careful can set free wild beasts that can rip you limb from limb?"

"You just made that up," Harry countered.

The Professor capitulated, "Maybe. But her lines have been known to cut the detentionee's hands and leave severe psychological trauma."

"Well, we can't let you go and have some psychological trauma improve your frame of mind, now can we," Harry groused out loud. "How about we just get that book back on the shelves by sending it via an anonymous owl?"

"Please," the Professor took umbrage at something else doing his dirty work. "If we're going to Bundy the book, we need to do it ourselves. Besides, I've heard tell that Madame Pince has been known to track back anonymous owls to their senders and still make them do lines. No, what we need…"

After a minute's pause, Henchgirl rolled her eyes and prompted, "Yes?"

"…is a plan," the Professor finished.

Somehow, Harry knew that "Plan" would involve him.

-o0o-

"…so in conclusion," the Professor concluded, "all we would have to do is stash some trusty dynamite around the astronomy tower and trigger the detonator. Then when it's falling and cries of pain and anguish are bellowing from throughout the school, we sneak into the library and place it back on its shelf, after first making sure there isn't a late-book ward in place." The Professor smiled as the ingenuity of the plan. It was so simple. So…

"That has got to be one of the biggest croc…" Harry started before Henchgirl said in a slightly louder voice, "And where do you propose to get the dynamite from? It certainly doesn't grow on trees I'll have you know."

"Not anymore, drat the luck. And after all the time I'd spent on that Aspen too. But I digress. How about your…"

"No," she said firmly.

"Then what…"

"No."

"But…"

"What part of no didn't you understand, mister? You are not getting any of mine. You need another plan. Preferably one not blowing up part of the school."

"But explosions are cool," he protested.

"Guys," Harry started.

"I'll give you that, but flying body parts are only good if they belong to the bad guys. Not the good guys."

"…oh. Right. Forgot that."

"Guys," Harry tried again.

"Now if you'd wanted to blow the dungeon, there would have been plenty of things to also catch fire there and explode in lots of pretty colors. Believe me, I know that from experience."

"Guys!" This plan of the Professor's was taking simply FOREVER to come up with. He needed to get them moving it along before he started coming up with ideas like theirs.

"Yes?" Henchgirl asked innocently.

"How about I simply take the book back myself?"

"And have Madame Pince tear into Mr. Black? Talk about a body count," the Professor said. "Now if only we could get some explosions in place…"

"Harry," Henchgirl said, "she gets inventive with her lines. She once had a 7th year recite all the lines from a play as his punishment."

"That doesn't sound so bad."

"It was Romeo and Juliet. And he had to do _all_ the lines."

"Now that's just cruel," Harry agreed. "But I had an idea that might help."

"An idea?" shouted the Professor. "We don't need ideas! We need a plan!"

"Ooookkkaaayyyy. I have a plan," Harry said with finality. It had better be a plan because this was the final idea he was coming up with before walking out. "I take the book back to Hogwarts. And instead of taking it back today, I use the Fuzzies to go back in time and take it back before it was due."

The Professor stopped chewing his fingernails. "That… that plan could work. Henchgirl! My book! And my gum!"

"Here, Harry," Henchgirl handed over the book while he slipped on his Pink Bunny Slippers. "And no more gum for you, you old reprobate. I've found enough under my table to last a lifetime."

"Awww."

Harry opened the book to see when it was due back. "You needed to return this by… October 13, 1962? Jeez, how old are you anyway?" Harry vanished.

-o0o-

Harry immediately recognized his old alma matter. It was afternoon and he made his way up the stairs towards the library. He stopped short before going around a corner as he heard voices. Regrettably, very familiar voices.

It was Colin and Dennis Creevy. And from overhearing their conversation, they were planning on ambushing Harry Potter shortly to get some more pictures which they'd later superimpose themselves in to make it look like they were best pals.

Sure, they were creepy at times and downright too damn happy most of the time, but they'd never been stalkers where he'd come from.

Harry had only used the Fuzzies a dozen times or so but had become familiar with the sensation of either moving in time, or through dimensions. His last jump felt more like a dimension jump and not a timeline slippage. Well, he could still deliver the book and complete the mission.

Only, he couldn't do it as himself. It was too risky. He didn't want Madame Pince on his case, or his alter-ego's case for that matter either. He had to disguise himself as someone above reproach. Someone who could get away with what he planned on doing.

Someone who didn't mind having their name taken in vain should he be caught. Harry smiled and quickly donned the Snape glamour. He quickly headed for the library.

Entering, he noticed that the Librarian was not at her post and he quickly made his way to the Restricted Section, going down several isles to get an idea where to put the book. Rounding some shelves, he finally saw the place where the book went.

Harry looked back to where the Librarian normally sat and seeing she still wasn't there, he slipped the book out from under his robes and shoved it onto the shelf. There, job done. As he turned to leave, he noticed Hermione watching him from a table just a few feet away.

He wasn't sure she'd seen him place the book on the shelf, but was sure she'd seen him enough as she stopped pouring over the multiple books surrounding her at the table and looked up. "What do you want?" she said in a cool voice.

Harry started to stammer. "Uh, what do you mean?"

"You told me to remain out of your sight for the rest of the weekend or you'd dock Gryffindor 100 points. I'm endeavoring to do that but here you come and track me down? Why? What do you want this time?"

_That Snape must've done something to get under Hermione's skin, _Harry surmised. An evil gleam showed in his eye as an idea came to him. "Say, Miss Granger, what's your sign?"

"Are you honestly trying to pick me up? What kind of pervert are you? You do realize that there are laws against this kind of thing. You're an educator, man, get a hold of yourself. I can't believe you're trying to pick up a young child for some perverted twisted fantasy of yours. Jerk. Guess Harry was right about you after all."

Several other nearby students begin chatting to one another about what just happened.

"Did you hear? Professor Snape just spoke civilly to a student? A Gryffindor no less."

"I heard he propositioned her. I guess the Slytherins aren't doing it for him any longer."

"He never talks to me that way," complained a male voice.

"Oh, Dean Thomas, you're such a drama queen."

While killing a character was enjoyable, he still felt for his friend and tried to help her out. "So, Miss Granger, in lieu of you not _telling_ anyone about my, ah, forwardness, how about I help you with your research." Telling someone to _not_ do something was always a good way to get them to _do_ something Harry always thought.

"How about you just leaving me alone while I research a spell to help Harry on his quest to get rid of Voldemort. You old pervert."

Harry/Snape looked to a shelf and saw a book with a different kind of ward on it. It was odd seeing a Don't Read Me ward on a book. He quickly dispelled it and pulled out the book. Looking inside, he saw that it had only been checked out once, back in 1824. "Maybe this might help," Harry said, handing the book over to a still fuming Hermione.

"Anecdotes of the Great Accounts? What are you, dumb as well as a lousy teacher? That's it, I'm writing the board of governors about your behavior."

Feeling giddy that his character assassination business was done (yet again – after all, it never got old), Harry left. As he left, Madame Pince came back in. "Hiya, hotstuff," he smiled, smacking her bottom once as he walked by.

As she pulled her wand out to hex him, he quickly made his way outside and around another corner.

"Ah. Mr. Creevys. How are you both this fine afternoon? By the way, what's your signs?"

"Dennis, is he picking me up? I'd heard he was acting all weird these days, but this is too much for me. Where's my camera?"

Harry quickly lost the two youngsters as he dashed around a few corners and down a corridor, only to run into the real Potions Master. "What the?" Severus Snape managed before being stupefied by the quick reflexes of Mr. Black.

Heh-heh, Harry smirked. He'd always wanted to do that. Greasy git.

Squeak.

Harry turned and pulled his slippers out from a pocket in his robe. He looked down at the pink fuzzies and said, "Our job is done here?"

Squeak, squeak.

"Okay." He slipped them on and vanished from that reality.

-o0o-

TO READ WHAT HAPPENED TO THIS ALTERNATE HARRY, AND WHAT OTHER TERRIBLE THINGS HAPPENED TO ONE SEVERUS SNAPE YOU CAN READ THE ENTIRE STORY (YES, IT'S COMPLETE) ON RORSCHACH'S BLOT STORY LISTINGS. IT IS CALLED: **Past Lives** and can be found at:

http// www (dot) fanfiction (dot) net / s / 2100544 / 1

The term: "Bundy a book" came from that great Fox show: Married with Children when Al had to return a book that he'd checked out while in high school many years previous.

A/N Reviews are greatly appreciated. Plus they motivate me to write more. Let me know if there are any other stories that need Mr. Black's handiwork to "get it moving", so to speak.


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